


There Can Be Only One

by vivilove



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: After the Tent Scene, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Jonsa Spring Challenge, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-06 23:45:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14068194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: On the Eve of the Battle of the Bastards, Jon and Sansa are attempting to cope with their feelings for each other after their argument.Jonsa Spring Challenge- Day 2 Dialogue Prompt 'There can be only one.'





	There Can Be Only One

**Author's Note:**

> This one's just a quick thing for the challenge. Not sure I'll get anymore done for the event :)

 

It was not like arguing with anyone else…except maybe one.

 _No, no_ , he thought desperately. _This is different. That was different. It must be different._

Many times he had bandied words with men and women alike. But there was something about Sansa and their heated quarrels...it was a spark that set his blood on fire.

Only one other woman had ever set his pulse to pounding this way. Only one other woman had ever aggravated him, captivated him and twisted him by turns, leaving him hot, flustered, angry and quaking.

Only a dead man could have such thoughts. Ygritte was dead and Sansa was his sister.

“There can be only one,” he muttered, shaking his head as she stormed from the tent.

 _You know nothing, Jon Snow_ , rang in his ears.

And perhaps, she’d been right.

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa tossed and turned on her pallet, dashing the salty tears from her cheeks.

_I will not cry. I may die tomorrow but I will not cry._

She did not want to die. She wanted to live…very much. But, returning to Ramsay was unthinkable. And, a life without Jon would be unbearable.

Writing to Petyr had been difficult and then she’d received no reply. And if he came…if he somehow managed to swoop in and save them, what would that mean? She knew what he would want.

She should’ve said something in his tent, should’ve told him of her faint hope…but then he’d vexed her, frightened her…thrilled her.

Jon was so stubborn. He would march tomorrow though it likely meant their doom.

But what if they won? What if they lived? What if all that she prayed for came true?

She would still be lacking something that she’d told her heart to stop wanting years ago.

Love.

And there could be only one who would ever…

_No…he is your brother._

_Half-brother_ , a devious voice from within said.

 

* * *

 

 

He knew he should return to his tent and seek whatever rest he could. But her tent was already before him. And, though dawn was not far off, the night was so cold it burned.

The guard let him pass. He was her brother. He was the lord commander of their army. And the man could not see the lust in his heart.

Sansa startled when a hot, callused hand covered her mouth. Her eyes flew open in terror. He withdrew his hand, his face soft and filled with regret. He was not Ramsay. He’d not meant to frighten her.

“I’m sorry I startled you. I’m sorry about last night. I don’t want to quarrel with you. I don’t want to fight before…”

“I know. I’m sorry as well,” she said. The salt had dried on her cheeks making them feel tight.

She sat up, the covers falling away leaving her exposed in just her shift.

 _There can be only one_ , he told himself, his eyes darting away from pale arms, bare shoulders and a cascade of hair that was kissed by fire.

“Jon,” she said, taking his burned hand, the hand that clenched now to keep from grabbing, from tugging, from ripping her shift and marking her flesh. “Couldn’t you sleep?”

“No.”

_No, I cannot sleep. No, I cannot have you._

“Can I help?”

 _No, you cannot help…not if I’m to keep any shred of honor_.

“Aye,” he said, drowning in blue eyes, swallowing hard and leaning forward.

_Dead men have no need of honor._

Sansa saw him lean in, saw his dark eyes flitting between her eyes and her lips. She licked her lips in response, staring at his full, firm mouth. So grim. She wished to see him smile once more.

She leaned towards him and could feel the heat radiating off him, chasing away the chill.

A horn blew, shattering the peace of night and scattering their wits. He’d been so close. She could almost taste him; ale and smoke and a promise that would go unanswered for now…and perhaps forever.

He clasped her hand in his. No words could he utter. Battle loomed ahead this day and the men would need him.

“I’ll see you later,” she whispered and he knew it was a plea.

“Yes…later.”

 _“Thousands of men don’t have to die,”_ he’d told Ramsay yesterday with Sansa by his side. _“Only one of us.”_

 _Let it be him_ , he prayed.

 


End file.
